


Right Hand

by ReversalSun



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Gen, This can be considered shipping, the tension between felix and his inability to engage in introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-09-01 01:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20249965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReversalSun/pseuds/ReversalSun
Summary: Even just the thought of Dimitri was enough to make Felix's blood boil. That burning pain was perhaps the fiercest thing he felt - and his purpose for moving forward.





	Right Hand

Cynicism came easily to Felix. He couldn’t remember a time in his life that he’d lacked a critical, detached lens. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that he didn’t want to remember. If he was firm in his current convictions then there was no reason to dwell on his past demeanor. 

Still, a select few of those he’d known his whole life seemed determined to drag up who he’d been as a child. Dimitri was not chief among them - no, that honor belonged to Sylvain - but it was the prince’s calls to the past that irritated him most.

Maybe irritated was too strong a word. To use it felt like he was ceding something, giving away some modicum of power to a person he detested. Yet he couldn’t suppress the low rage that growled within him whenever the boar acted as if they were friends. Platitudes fell out of Dimitri’s mouth and hit his skin like the severed legs of insects, still twitching in their death mask and repulsing every fiber of Felix’s being. That cheerful, friendly front wouldn’t fool him. Felix wouldn’t be lulled into a false sense of comfort by a smile and bow. He couldn’t. He’d seen too much of the prince’s true nature. There were many things the young man couldn’t forget, and Dimitri’s blood-stained visage was one of them.

That was the difference between them; Felix refused to hide the ways that life had worn on him. The person he had grown to be was shaped by experience. He was still young, yet to even graduate the Officer’s academy, but he’d already experienced the soul-rending grief of loss and the sobering reality of bloodshed. He would wear it on his sleeve, never one to deny who he was. That must be why Dimitri’s facade of compassion tormented him so. To him it seemed a clear lie, merely a mask to hide the monster that the prince truly was. He could speak to his heart's content of peace and ideals but none of it would ever trick Felix. 

Maybe it was for the poor fools that drew to his lies like flies to honey that he cared to speak up. To challenge the prince’s pretty words was compulsion, one he didn’t entirely understand. He would call it a product of his disgust. That was reasonable enough. Felix wasn’t the type for heroism, but there was danger in allowing wide-eyed idealists to pledge their undying loyalty to a sham of a king. That could be his reason. 

Felix wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on such matters for long though. Why did he need some justification for his actions? No one had asked him. The matter didn’t demand explanation, so what reason was there to trouble himself with the banal task of introspection. Such things didn’t suit him. His time and energy were better spent on practical matters. 

Garreg Mach’s training grounds were a place of tranquility. The heat of the summer sun teased sweat from his brow and sapped any surplus strength from his body. A difficult temperature only served to push him further, to emphasize the eventual ache of his body as he stepped forward into another thrust of his blade. The pain was meditative. With his entire focus spent on form and movement, no useless thoughts could pester him. In practicing precise motions of the blade, Felix found sanctuary. 

However, the small paradise he had wasn’t protected from desecration. Far from it, in fact. It was quite often that the prince he so loathed would show his face there - and today proved to be no exception. Dimitri had entered some time ago and now stood on the sidelines watching. Felix had spotted him out of the corner of his eye, but denied the young man any sort of acknowledgment. Let them exist neutrally, separate from one another despite the shared space. That’s all he wished for, yet he could feel the other’s eyes upon him. To him, that gaze burned hotter than the sun. 

“I fear you may exhaust yourself at this rate.” The silence of the training grounds was swiftly shattered by the blond’s voice. Felix wouldn’t allow this to break his concentration. He sliced through the air once again, focusing his attention on the angle at which his boot pressed into the ground. “You’ll need to take a break at some point.” Again Dimitri spoke. He’d chosen to approach now. Obnoxious as he found the prince to be, Felix knew better than to recklessly endanger others with his swordplay. 

“What do you want.” His curt answer was accompanied by the swift and practiced motion of sheathing his sword. He refused to look in Dimitri’s direction. He wasn’t owed that.

“I wanted to check on you.” The blond’s tone was pleasant as ever. “I figured you might be training despite the heat, and lo and behold, here you are.”

“Anyone could have guessed that I would be here, that’s not impressive.” The familiarity with which Dimitri spoke was sickening. Felix hoped that such a response could make the prince’s faux smile waver.

“Regardless, I think you should take a break.” Unfettered, sadly. “You’ve already abandoned your vest, it’s clear that you’re not impervious to the heat.”

“Obviously I know it’s hot out.” Felix finally turned to face the young man. Dimitri stood before him, confident in his display of concern. It was a lie. It had to be. “Don’t insist on pestering me while I train. If you’re going to be here, grab a sword and make yourself useful.” 

“Grab a sword- You’re asking me to spar with you?” The blond was incredulous. 

“That’s what I said.” 

“I think it might be a little warm for that right now.” Dimitri grimaced at the thought.

“Then leave.”

“Fine.” Yielding to the request, Dimitri strode to the side of the hall and picked a weapon. As he returned, he felt its weight in his hand. Tipping it slightly one way, then the other, measuring out how the hunk of steel played with gravity.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” Bitterness hadn’t left Felix’s voice. 

“Spar with you?” Dimitri smiled. “We must have sparred a thousand times before.”

“No, grab a sword. Not exactly your weapon of choice.” His flat tone refused to betray any sense of appreciation.

“I suppose not, but we’ve come to the academy to learn, haven’t we? We should be practicing new skills.” Dimitri looked across the iron blade once more before taking on an alert stance.

“I’m not going to baby you just because you’re using a new weapon, you know that right?” Felix retorted. Dimitri’s use of “we” made his skin crawl. 

“Of course, I know you better than that.” Dimitri chuckled as he spoke. Felix only grimaced. The dark-haired man squared his shoulders and fixed his gaze on the prince. He struck like a snake, blowing the sword from Dimitri’ hand in a single swift motion. 

“Keep your attention on the battle instead of worthless chatter.” Felix spat. For a moment Dimitri was too bewildered to respond. He blinked once before retrieving the sword facing the other once again.

“You’re right, Felix. It won’t happen again.” The prince grew more serious now, the levity in his gaze fading as he sized up his opponent. 

Felix wasn’t about to give him the advantage of respite. He struck first, a sharp blow toward the center of Dimitri’s body that forced the prince into defense. The blond was a beast with the strength to match, and allowing him to go on the offensive could put the swordsman in danger. 

Raising a hand to the top of the blade guarding his chest, Dimitri pushed his aggressor back. The sound of metal sliding against metal accompanied the movement, ringing out into the empty arena. Felix recovered with ease, striking the prince again after what felt to be less than a second. This time it was a diagonal slash that would travel from knee to neck. Dimitri leaped back, wobbling slightly as his unfamiliar weapon threw him off balance. The opening was too big to go unnoticed, and Felix withdrew his blade before stepping forward and thrusting a blow toward the blond’s solar plexus. The prince could only manage to divert the younger’s attack, blocking it completely was out of the question. Set askew, the blade ripped into the fabric of his sleeve, exposing the skin of his bicep and a faint whisper of blood. 

“Are you done yet?” The swordsman sounded more annoyed than celebratory as his blade returned to his side.

“After such a small cut? Nonsense.” Dimitri regained his composure and waited for his opponent to do the same. Felix’s expression seemed to darken slightly. His gaze grew sharper and his mouth drew into a thin frown. He dug his boot into the dry dirt below and launched himself toward the prince. He drew his sword across the side of Dimitri’s rib cage as he passed, restraining himself enough to spare the other injury while still leaving a clear slash across the other’s torso. Ending the swipe of his blade, Felix released the grip of one of his hands and drew his elbow back, knocking a sharp blow into the square of Dimitri’s back. The prince toppled forward, catching himself on the dry earth below.

“You’re done,” Felix announced, wiping the sweat from his brow. 

“I have to say I expected as much.” Dimitri croaked his response as he pushed himself back to his feet. He gingerly inspected the cut trailing across his ribs before addressing the swordsman again. “Your skills with a blade are nothing to make light of.”

“Then you should have used a lance.” Felix turned to face where his opponent had fallen. “If you mess around like that in a real battle you’ll end up dead.”

“You shouldn’t chide me when the same could be said about you.” The prince allowed for the shadow of a grin to return to his face. 

“Excuse me?”

“You said you weren’t going to go easy on me, but that’s exactly what you did.” Felix returned the accusation with a sour glare. “You knocked my sword from my hand once, you clearly could have done it again. Instead, you chose to attack me straight on. I’ve seen you fight, I know that you’d never-”

“Stop it, I’ve heard enough.” Felix interrupted. “I was trying to spar with you, not kill you. I’m tired of you acting like you know me so well. I don’t fraternize with beasts.” Silence hung between the two. Felix sheathed his sword and headed for the door. 

“If you find me to be so monstrous, why don’t you do something about it?” Anger had gently laced itself between Dimitri’s words. “Why stay here, where you’re taught how to serve in an army that I’ll one day be commanding?” Now it was Felix’s turn to be at a loss. His goal was clear; Gain power, surpass the flaws he had seen in his brother, avoid a similar fate. Maybe the officers' academy was simply a means to that end. Certainly, he could receive the finest training here. Then again, their current professor was a former mercenary. It was very possible that there were better ways to learn the art of war. 

He’d never taken the time to ponder deeper questions, there was always something better to do. His loyalty didn’t lay with his father, nor with the slain king of Fhirdiad. Did he even have some goal? Some ultimate intention to move toward? Gaining power was one matter, how he would use it was another.

“Because I hope to be in that army,” Felix spoke slowly, his scattered thoughts still coalescing into a uniform answer. “Not just as some general or a lowly soldier. I hope to be at your right hand, Dimitri.”

The prince waited. Felix clearly had more to say. The youngest of House Fraldarius gripped the hilt of his sheathed sword tightly. 

“So if you ever go too far I can cut you down before you lose what few shreds of humanity you have left.”


End file.
